Advent Apocalypse
by emerald sorceress
Summary: In the future, Buffy prepares to spend another Christmas alone. But an invite to a special Charity Christmas Ball changes her plans entirely. Throw in an Apocalypse or two and it could almost be like old times...
1. Apocalypse In A Pear Tree

**Feedback**: Like Santa needs belief. Feedback and criticism (but only constructive) is welcomed and appreciated.  
**Disclaimer**: Yeah, yeah, you all know the drill. I don't own any of the Buffy characters or the words to the 12 days of Christmas.

**Pairings**: B/A

**Summary**: In the future, Buffy prepares to spend another Christmas alone. But an invite to a special Charity Christmas Ball changes her plans entirely. Maybe the festive season will turn out better than she could ever have expected…

* * *

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me _

_An apocalypse in a pear tree_

_

* * *

_

It was Christmas and she was choking to death. Life really wasn't fair.

Or death for that matter.

Throwing open the kitchen windows she grabbed a tea towel and began to frantically waft the thick acrid smoke away from the open oven door.

It drifted out peacefully into the cold, fresh air as the agonising wails of the smoke alarm crescendoed into a high pitched squeal. Picking up a cookbook Buffy took careful aim and threw it at the alarm, smashing it to pieces and putting it out of its misery. Pieces of its crushed body hung from the ceiling, dangling pathetically, and with one last wheeze from the sensor it finally gave up, dropping to the ground.

A small dent in the wooden flooring was its final, resentful goodbye.

But there was no time to mourn the valiant alarm; the more pressing worry was whether or not Christmas dinner had survived the roaring inferno that Buffy called her oven. Grabbing the oven gloves she took out the tray and placed it on the worktop. A small pile of ashes heaped in the middle of the oven tin were all that remained of what had once been a turkey.

Staring mournfully at the burnt remains, she sighed, opened the bin and tipped it inside.

"Great. Another sucky Christmas once again," she muttered to herself.

Okay, so she wasn't exactly expecting her cooking to be brilliant but she'd expected more than ashes to eat, and she just_ knew_ that the turkey was staring down at her from the big turkey heaven in the sky and laughing at her. She glanced up at the ceiling and stuck her tongue out, before resigning herself to whatever was left in the fridge. Which wasn't much.

"But when she got there, her cupboard was bare…"

She wrinkled her nose at some foul smelling cheese in there, (whatever had possessed her to buy that?) and hastily shut the door. There were a couple of lonely vegetables in the veg rack, and a potato that had decided to make a premature escape and was now growing white tendrils in the dark under the rack. A packet of unopened and out-of-date brownie mix lay dusty in the cupboard, along with a jar of marmite and a Fruit & Nut bar.

"And so poor Buffy had none."

Why had she not been like everyone else she knew at Christmas and gone out and stockpiled food as if the world was going to end tomorrow? Which, actually, wouldn't make much sense, now she thought about it, because if the world was going to end the next day then what was the point in buying food?

Maybe impending doom made you hungry.

But she was getting off topic. She'd stupidly put all her dinner in one tin and now it was dead, bird and vegetables all.

One big burnt offering.

Grabbing the fruit bar and shoving it in her pocket, she dumped the tin in the dishwasher and pushed the power button.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. Still nothing.

Right, this was getting ridiculous. A good solid kick to its door finally got it going, and Buffy headed into her living room to flop onto her sofa.

Chewing the fruit bar ungratefully, she glanced around her living room, decked out tastefully in festive gold and green trimmings. The little tree in the corner of the room had small gold lights dotted around it, which glittered dimly in the dark room.

But there was only one present under the tree, and that was from Dawnie. She had been asked if she wanted to spend Christmas with her and her ever growing family but she had declined. And though she knew her sister meant well it would be too hard seeing her as an old lady, bent over her grandchildren, and her new great-grandchildren and enjoying a proper family Christmas.

Too hard now she had stopped aging.

She hadn't seen her baby sis since Dawnie had celebrated her 60th birthday. And that had been a good twenty years ago. She couldn't bear to see how old she had become, the wrinkles lining her face and her back beginning to stoop slightly.

Especially when Buffy herself didn't look a day over 21.

It wasn't that she cared about Dawnie's looks; it was rather that they were a reminder of her own cursed immortality that the Powers had seen fit to bestow upon her as a 'gift'. It was a reminder that one day Dawnie would die and she would be alone.

Completely.

First there'd been her mom.

And once she thought maybe that she could deal with the deep raw pain left inside her, she'd heard from her contacts who still kept an eye on the demon world that Spike and Angel were both dead. Killed in their last battle against the unholy army sent by Wolfram and Hart. The grief remoulded itself and became a living breathing part of her.

And then Giles left too, old age finally getting to him and taking him peacefully, leaving him asleep in his chair.

10 years later Willow and Xander had followed him, a drunk driver ploughing into the car that Xander had been driving to take Willow to see her newborn granddaughter.

And now only Dawnie was left. And to Buffy it felt as though she was just sitting waiting for her sister to die.

"Wow, happy thoughts there, Slayer," said an annoying and familiar voice. "You need a serious dose of Christmas cheer."

Buffy turned to see Whistler standing in the middle of her living room and practically growled at the messenger. Faster than the eye could see, she had him by the lapels of his jacket up against the wall, his feet dangling inches off the ground.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't make good on that promise I made years ago."

Whistler gulped. "The one about the hat?"

"And your ribcage, yeah."

"Cos, Christmas is the time for love and forgiveness?"

The balance demon's eyes widened as he was hoisted higher into the air.

"Try again."

"I'm cute?"

"Seriously?" She said. "Are you trying to get me to hurt you?"

Whistler finally gave in.

"If you kill me then you'll never find out what I came to tell you."

The slayer sighed.

"I know I'm so going to regret this," she said and let go of him. The demon was dropped back to the ground and dusting off his jacket, glanced nervously at Buffy.

"Hey, whatever happened to peace and goodwill to all men?"

"I don't see any men around here, do you?"

"Low blow, slayer," he said, but allowed himself a small smile. At least she hadn't sunk so low in her depression that she couldn't exchange insults.

"So get the message over with and go," she said impatiently. "How much more crappy have the Powers decided to make my life? I've already got the immortality, and a side order of an eternity of being the chosen one. How much worse can they possibly make it?"

Whistler frowned at her. "Is that how you really see it? As a curse?" He shook his head. "Kid, you've got it all wrong."

Buffy snorted. "Right Whistler. Tell me how seeing all my friends die, knowing that everyone I have ever and will ever love will age and die while I never grow old is not a curse." She laughed incredulously. "Sure, that was a great present."

Whistler didn't answer her but instead gazed at her Christmas tree.

"Nice angel," he commented.

The angel in question was perched precariously on top of the tree, her plain white dress delicately over-laced by intricate gold patterns, in swirling loops spreading over her dress in a gold haze. Her ivory wings curved gracefully out from her back and a tiny halo was perched crookedly over her crop of blonde hair. Her hands were folded together in a silent prayer and a small smile graced her lips, as though enjoying some private joke.

"Family heirloom," said Buffy shortly, refusing to dredge up her own painful memories of her Mom and family Christmases long gone.

"You know that angel is special right? One angel in all the world to fit on top of that tree and nothing else would look right up there. Not a star, or Santa Claus or whatever else you can stick on top of a Christmas tree. It's her duty to guard that tree, to look out from the top and know that she has a sacred job, to represent all that is good in the world and to remind everyone that there is hope."

"If you're gonna use the angel as some kinda poor metaphor for me," said Buffy, arms crossed defensively, curled up on the couch and staring in vague disgust at Whistler, "then you're right-she was chosen. Out of hundreds of other angels she was taken. But there was nothing special about her; fate had just decided that she was gonna be even more bitchy than normal. And so hey, she got picked, forced to spend her life alone, isolated, because someone told her she had a duty to do. Nothing else could fit on top of that tree but her, and if she didn't do it then who would? And then when she wasn't needed anymore she got put back in a tiny musty box and forgotten about til' the next year when she was needed again, and then she was dragged out of that box and stuck on top, alone again."

She paused in her rant and smiled sarcastically. "Or hey, how about this- the fairy doesn't know what she's done wrong, but somehow she's been put on top of that crappy tree, and now she's got a branch shoved up her arse."

Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you start channelling Spike?"

Buffy shrugged and managed a smile that didn't even come close to touching her eyes. "He rubbed off on me after a while. They all did. Even Giles- I drink tea and if you catch me in a good mood, I even manage words of more than two syllables." She sighed. "Besides he's the last connection I have with Angel- and since both of them are gone now it's all I have left to remind me."

Whistler suddenly grinned- a smile reaching from one corner of his face to the other.

"What?" Said Buffy self-consciously. "Did I say something funny?"

"Nope Kid," said Whistler, still grinning from ear to ear. "Just here ya are."

He handed her a small white card, bordered in gold, with a small golden bird in a tree of some kind on the front. Turning it over she found a message on it in elaborately scripted lettering.

_A Charity Christmas Ball Is To Be Held_

_Christmas Day_

_19:00 onwards_

_At The Grand Plaza Hotel_

_And you_

The Slayer

_Are Cordially Invited To Attend_

Buffy frowned up at Whistler. "What? I don't understand. Whoever sent this card can't be human because they know I'm the slayer."

He shrugged. "So they forgot to mention it's a _supernatural_ charity Christmas ball, but whose niggling with their word choice?"

"Me," said Buffy. "That's who." She set the card aside and glanced at Whistler. "What, are you still here?"

"I have to stay til' I know you're going."

Buffy shook her head. "Why would I even wanna go when I can do some quality moping around?"

Whistler dug his hands into his coat pockets. "Cos, if you don't say yes then I've gotta stay here and bug you out of your mind til you give in."

"What a way to get a girl to go to a ball." Buffy laughed cynically. "Send along the annoying demon to take care of it. Fine, fine, I'll go."

Whistler looked put out. "What, you mean you don't need convincing? Not even the tiniest bit?"

"Nope. You're already annoying as it is without trying."

Whistler tried to look as if he didn't care. "Your loss. You're missing out on some quality irritation."

"Thanks," said Buffy. "I think I'll pass." She frowned suddenly. "But what am I gonna wear? It'll be like my high school prom all over again."

Whistler just shook his head and clicked his fingers. "You really need to check your wardrobe more often," he said grinning cheekily. "I'm sure you'll find something to wear in amongst all of those dresses."

"Wow," said Buffy. "You're like the fairy godmother I never had." She screwed up her nose. "And ew, you in a dress, images I never really needed in my head right now."

Whistler shrugged. "Hey it's your mind Slayer. If you wanna imagine me in a dress go ahead, but I gotta say, I never thought that'd float your boat."

Buffy narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Whistler, if you were the last demon on earth I wouldn't find you hot."

"You cut me deep, kid. Real deep."

"Get outta here," said Buffy. "Go bother some other poor person with your annoyingness."

Whistler rolled his eyes but tipped his hat politely at her and then he winked out of existence.

Two seconds later he reappeared again.

"Oh yeah," he said. "By the way, you were wrong. Angel's alive."

Buffy gaped at him in shock, unable to even comprehend what he'd just said.

Angel?

Alive?

But how?

And when… she didn't understand…

"Merry Christmas, Slayer."

* * *

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**All shiny and glowing.**


	2. Two TurtleDoves & An Angel

**Feedback**: Like Santa needs belief. Feedback and criticism (but only constructive) is welcomed and appreciated.  
**Disclaimer**: Yeah, yeah, you all know the drill. I don't own any of the Buffy characters or the words to the 12 days of Christmas. However, I do own Roman Marcellus and Carenza, my two lovely angels.

**Summary**: In the future, Buffy prepares to spend another Christmas alone. But an invite to a special Charity Christmas Ball changes her plans entirely. Maybe the festive season will turn out better than she could ever have expected…

* * *

_On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me_

_Two turtle doves & an Angel_

_And an apocalypse in a pear tree_

* * *

Questions still buzzing in her head, Buffy made her way up the stairs towards her bedroom.

If Angel was alive why had her contacts told her he was dead?

Why hadn't he looked for her?

Where was he now?

Knowing that the balance demon wasn't likely to be answering her questions anytime soon, (he was annoying like that), she decided to put the questions out of her head for the moment.

Maybe she'd beat them out of Whistler later on.

However, he'd been true to his word and there, in a neat row in her wardrobe were dresses, in colours and styles to make even Cordelia green with envy. Fingering the soft fabrics of the dresses, she flicked through looking for a suitable one.

There was a cream silk dress with a halter neck, and a gorgeous blackberry coloured taffeta dress without straps and a shirred waist, causing the material to cascade softly down from the waist to the floor. This was followed by a dark forest green chiffon dress, with spaghetti straps and a sweet ribbon sash. The dresses never seemed to end, but she finally managed to decide on one which was appropriate and that she felt comfortable in.

It was dark navy satin and had a sweetheart neckline, simple and elegant. She didn't really feel up to waltzing into some kind of monster's ball drowning in silks and mounds of fabric if something bad went down. She had no illusions that something was going to be happening, because hey, this was the Powers who'd given her the invitation. They weren't exactly into giving out freebies like that unless there was some sort of catch. And it was always a big one.

Slipping on the dress she hunted around in her jewellery box for the simple gold earrings that had belonged to her Mom, and the chain that held Willow, Xander and Giles' wedding rings and her own claddagh. Digging around in the back of the wardrobe she found a pair of suitable shoes and a wrap to keep out the winter chill.

Clutching her bag, which held her make-up, purse and mobile, she gingerly made her way downstairs and out of the house. Sliding her key back out of the lock so that the door was closed, she almost decapitated the man standing behind her with said key.

The little man bobbed his head nervously and doffed his cap. He was all of four feet tall and was wearing a smart chauffeur's suit and hat, which hid a rapidly balding head. With a tiny button nose, rosy cheeks, pointed ears and tiny white whiskers he looked like a strange mix between a mouse and an elf that Santa had rejected.

"Miss," he squeaked. "I've come to take you to the ball."

With her spidey senses telling her that the only threat this man posed was to other traffic- could he even see over the steering wheel?- she reluctantly agreed to let him drive her. Following him down the drive her eyes fixed on the tiny pink tail that peeked out from between his trousers. Shaking her head because hey, she'd seen stranger things in her life, she climbed into the cab… and made sure to strap herself in.

* * *

25 minutes later, two near misses and 10 terrified pedestrians later they finally arrived at the Grand Plaza Hotel.

"Jeeze," muttered Buffy to herself as the chauffeur opened the car door. "And people thought my driving was bad."

The mouse-elf man squeaked indignantly at her and his whiskers twitched. "When you are ready to leave, whistle and I will be here to pick you up miss," he said, despite Buffy's protests and loud exclamations that she didn't want to put him to any trouble. Unfortunately the mouse-elf thingy wasn't having any of it and refused to listen.

"Miss, it is no trouble at all to come and pick you up."

She thought she saw his eyes twinkle at her obvious dismay and a small smirk cross his mouth, but before she could be sure both he and the car vanished in a puff of sparkly glitter and sleigh bells.

"I feel like Cinderella," she murmured and then frowned. "If Cinderella had some bizarre cross dressing fairy godmother and a cross species cab driver."

Shaking her head at the weirdness of it all she hurried up the large stone steps, hoping no-one had seen her or her bizarre travelling arrangements.

Inside the hotel lobby everything was decked in gold and cream. A large banner proclaimed 'Merry Christmas!' to everyone and the biggest tree that Buffy had ever seen in her life stood proudly in the middle of the floor. Lit by hundreds of tiny floating candles and trimmed with gold bells and delicate threads of tinsel the tree was a walking fire hazard, but Buffy had to admit it did look gorgeous.

Following the other people (well, they looked normal-for the moment anyway) over to a large side door Buffy found herself entering a ball room, with tables and chairs lining the sides of the room where people could sit and talk casually over drinks. Clearly dinner was going to be happening elsewhere if the scent of hot turkey wafting to her nose was any indication. Heading over to where a waiter was standing with a tray of white wine glasses she picked one off him and stood off to the side a little, watching as more and more people came in.

Buffy sighed to herself and sipped at her drink. Beer bad yes, but wine was good. Very good. Over the years she'd slowly acquired a liking for the stuff and it had to be expensive too. Buffy'd found out too late she was one of those wine snobs. Her- the Californian cheerleader, Sunnydale hardened slayer was into the best pinot grigo she could find. If only the gang could see her now! She giggled to herself at that thought and the waiter glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. She blushed and he smiled, nodding his head to her.

"It's normally frowned on to speak to the guests," said the waiter. "For you though, I think I could make an exception."

It was Buffy's turn to raise an eyebrow as she surveyed the man. Tall, dark and classically handsome he could have been one of the guests had he been wearing a proper suit, and as he sidled closer to her, she thought that maybe the night wouldn't be as bad as she'd expected.

That was until he placed the tray of glasses on the table and grabbing her wrist twisted her into him. His arms wrapped around her waist. He whipped to his left and she had time to register a door opening and closing as they whirled inside.

Letting her go, Buffy suddenly found herself in what looked like a deserted billiards room that she was sure hadn't been there before. In fact she'd been pretty sure the only doors that had existed a few moments ago had been the one she had just entered the ballroom through, and the doors at the far end of the room leading to other rooms.

Confused and trying to shake off the sudden dizziness she experienced at being turned around that fast she rapidly found anger bubbling up to the surface. Falling easily into her old habits she found the fighting stance comforting as she watched the man though narrowed eyes.

"Listen, Mr fake-waiter-twirly-man, I am tired, upset and having a really crappy Christmas so far… and you aren't making it any better. So how about I introduce you to Mr Pointy and we can all go home happy?"

The man shook his head, and then bowed to Buffy. A full, old fashioned gentleman's bow. Buffy stared at him oddly, but didn't relax. The man spoke then.

"I beg your forgiveness Slayer, but I had to make sure that we escaped the room quickly without anybody noticing us. I'm afraid my speed is much quicker than yours and there are certain individuals who would have noticed us leaving if we had gone at your own pace."

Buffy frowned. "You're still making with the confusion. Who the hell are you?"

The man bowed again. "Forgive me, my human name is Roman Marcellus and I am here to ask you to help me."

"Huh?" Said Buffy. "What do you mean your _human_ name? Just what exactly are you buddy?"

"I am an angel," said Roman motioning to himself. "Though you will have to take that on faith because I cannot transform and show you. The power would alert certain people who I do not want to know that I am here."

"Right," said Buffy sceptically. "You're an angel, and what a shame, you can't show me because bad things will happen. And now I've just got to blindly believe you? I don't know what your problem is but I'm going now."

With that Buffy turned to leave, but before she could take more than five steps Roman had caught hold of her wrist.

"Please!" He said desperately. "You _must_ stay and listen to me. I am begging you for your help."

"Let. Go." Said Buffy through gritted teeth. He abruptly let go of her wrist and stepped back with a sigh, running his fingers though his hair before putting his head in his hands.

Suddenly she felt something… _odd_ and glanced down at the warm tingly sensation where his hand had been and gasped. A perfect golden glow of a handprint encircled her wrist, pulsing softly with a warm light. She looked over at Roman, who had sunk into one of the soft leather chairs in the room and then back at her wrist. So maybe the guy wasn't such a weirdo after all. Perhaps there was some truth in what he was saying.

Putting her hand over the mark she felt a smile cross her lips as the feeling swept up her whole body, bathing her in a light that she'd only felt once in her life before. It was a feeling that sung to her of love, of comfort and of home. Buffy recognised a piece of heaven when she felt it.

She walked over to where Roman was sitting; face buried dejectedly in his hands, and touched him softly on the back. He looked up, his face a mixture of wariness and hope.

"Okay," said the Slayer. "I believe you…what've I gotta do?"

* * *

Buffy listened in disbelief as the angel unfolded his story to her.

"So let me get this straight- these funky demon guys are gonna sacrifice her and wipe out the whole of the supernatural community, so that only the demons are left and the humans are left as food."

Roman nodded his head. "That's right. If you spill an angel's blood, all hell is literally set loose."

"But why tonight- wouldn't Christmas be the worst night to be doing this kind of thing?"

Roman shook his head. "No, tonight is perfect- a holy night to do such a blasphemous thing as kill a holy creature. The magic is at its most potent - the night of the Christ child's birth."

Buffy smiled grimly. "And it's two fingers up to the Powers as well."

Roman nodded. "They will strike at midnight, when the magic will be at its height. There is to be an auction then too, it is how the money will be raised for the charity that this ball is sponsoring. One of the items being sold is the scrying glass of Saren and one of its lesser known abilities is that it acts as a power amplifier."

His face was a picture of despair. "When it goes on sale they will kill Carenza and cast the spell. Using the power of the assembled creatures here and her blood they will channel the power through the glass and wipe out everyone in this room and all over the world. Anything with even the slightest hint of supernatural ability. Witches, pagans, teenagers who may have messed around with an Ouija board. "

His eyes pierced hers. "They will all die."

"But why haven't they stolen the glass before hand?"

"Because it is kept in a permanently sealed lead box in one of the fifth dimensions. Tonight will be the first time it has been brought into our reality and taken out of its box for three millennia."

Buffy frowned and thought through everything she'd been told. "And so it's just you and me because?"

"We can't go in guns blazing. Carenza would be killed instantly and Armageddon will have begun rather ahead of schedule."

"Kay," said Buffy. "So subtle is the way to go." She raked her fingers though her hair. "So all we've gotta do tonight is find Carenza, who's hidden somewhere in this building, before midnight and stop them killing her. Either that or we could destroy the scrying glass."

"It will still be in the 5th dimension even two minutes before it is brought out to be sold, and even then it will be heavily guarded."

"Right," said Buffy. "Memo to self: glass is a no-go. So we've got one chance at saving her otherwise we're all screwed."

"Exactly."

Buffy laughed wryly to herself. "I'm so going to kill Whistler for doing this to me. No, wait…that would be animal cruelty."

Roman stood up and offered Buffy his hand. "Come, we must return before we are noticed as missing. You must be careful over what you do tonight, who you speak to, how you act. Anything odd and it's all over."

"Right," said Buffy. "One final question- why Carenza and not you?"

Roman's face creased with pain and guilt. "Carenza is the Angel of Peace- you couldn't find an easier target. I am the Angel of War. It was my job to protect her." He took a deep shuddering breath as though he was trying to hold in tears. "I failed her."

"I'm sorry," said Buffy genuinely. "I guess it's true what they say then: opposites do attract."

Roman managed a smile. "Yes," he said. "I love her and if anything happens to her I…" A dark expression crossed his face and his eyes suddenly blazed like fire.

"I know," said Buffy. "Believe me I'll be causing some serious damage too."

He took a deep breath and returned to normal and took Buffy's hand in his own. "Thank you Slayer," he said solemnly, and she felt her hands tingle from the warmth pouring from Roman's. "There is one final thing you should know."

"Oh?" Said Buffy. "Is this one of those good things I must know, like I get a free Caribbean cruise, or is it bad, like the world is scheduled to end Tuesday?"

Roman shook his head. "It is a good thing, I promise."

He turned and walked over to the door which they had entered, which to Buffy's surprise now didn't lead back to the ballroom but out into a garden, where a large fountain dominated the initial setting.

In the middle of the fountain there was a life-size statue of a man and a woman embracing each other. What was abundantly clear though was that they weren't human. The man's wings encircled the woman and hers were tucked flat against her back as she leant her head against his chest. They were unearthly beautiful and far too realistic to be mere statues, as though someone had captured a moment in time and frozen it forever, and Buffy felt the temptation to reach out and touch them. A sword lay on the floor next to the man and a pair of turtledoves were nestled next to the woman's dress, and Buffy looked up at the man's features as realisation suddenly hit.

"Roman?" She called out. "This is you isn't it? You and Carenza." There was no reply and Buffy turned round, but the door and the angel were gone.

"Huh?"

Sitting down on the fountain's stone rim Buffy sighed to herself. This was her surprise? To be dumped out in a garden in who knew where?

"Gotta say Roman's idea of a 'good thing', sure isn't mine," she muttered to herself.

Swinging her legs idly she had the sudden sensation of being watched. She closed her eyes and let her spidey senses stretch out into the garden. There, yes, someone was definitely watching her. She could feel the pair of eyes on her and as she listened she could hear footsteps coming closer and closer as a strange sensation grew more and more familiar…

Her eyes snapped open.

"Angel?"

"Buffy?"

* * *

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	3. Three French Hens And Assorted Demons

**Feedback**: Like Santa needs belief. Feedback and criticism (but only constructive) is welcomed and appreciated.  
**Disclaimer**: Do I look like Joss Whedon? However, I do own Roman and Carenza, my two doomed angels. Oh, and Cynthia my wickedly creepy porcelain figurine.

**Summary**: In the future, Buffy prepares to spend another Christmas alone. But an invite to a special Charity Christmas Ball changes her plans entirely. Maybe the festive season will turn out better than she could ever have expected…

* * *

_On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me_

_Three French hens and assorted demons_

_Two turtle doves and an Angel_

_And an apocalypse in a pear tree_

* * *

She laughed.

A ragged, chocking kind of laugh of disbelief.

The kind of laugh that means people blink twice at what they're seeing and the air suddenly rushing into their lungs seems somehow wrong and artificial and far, far too cold.

The hiccup of laughter that means a person doesn't know whether to burst into floods of tears or laugh hysterically at the situation, and really wants to attempt both at the same time.

The kind of laugh people get when they've just seen their supposedly dead ex-lover suddenly appear in the middle of a garden that two seconds ago didn't exist, suddenly magicked up by some guy who's the Angel of War, who's trying to get his girlfriend back because if they don't then Armageddon will arrive too early and really, that just isn't fair because it isn't even Tuesday.

That kind of laugh doesn't get used very often.

Believe me.

* * *

He reached out a hand to touch her, but it hovered just over her skin, as though he was afraid that touching her would make her disappear, like some wonderfully perfect bubble, that if touched by cold, clumsy hands would burst and only leave a brief shimmer of dampness in the air.

He traced the air of her outline, palming the frosty air, coaxing it to his touch as he traced over old familiar pathways.

Her face.

He ached to touch her cheek and he noticed with a frown that she seemed full of angles and sharp bones now, which wasn't right because the last time he'd seen her, when he'd given her the amulet, she'd just been growing soft and round again, her heaven torment finally put to one side as she concentrated on saving the world once more.

On closer inspection she seemed tired, strained, her eyes a little bit duller, as if being alive was a little bit too real again, too harsh and bright.

He did however notice that moonlight as always suited her. It made her hair glow gently and her figure suddenly seemed to be in soft focus. Or perhaps, that was the haze of tears he was trying to see through. A blood tear rolled down his cheek and he felt it wet his lip. His tongue darted out automatically and he saw her eyes dilate and follow the movement. Smelt the change in the air.

He clenched his fingers tightly and let them drop to his side. Settled for murmuring her name again instead.

She smiled wryly. "We've really gotta start using proper words. Like 'hi' or 'hello' or even 'hey gorgeous' or something."

Angel's lips twitched upwards. "I think that's only what normal people say…and we've never been normal people."

"We were. Once." She frowned a little. "It all seems such a long time ago."

Angel smiled gently at her. "You haven't changed though."

Something flashed in her eyes. "You have," she snapped. "You were _dead_. I found your ashes. Scattered them in Ireland. I thought the whole not-staying-dead thing was my trick."

He watched as she struggled with her anger, knowing she was trying to focus on that rather than giving in and breaking down.

"I was," he said. "Went to heaven and everything- seems like dying for the good guys is enough to redeem you from a life time of living for the bad ones."

She stared at him, thoughts racing through her mind. "But, you're here…I don't understand."

"The Powers have been aware of what's been going on down here for a little while. They wanted another warrior to help you but couldn't spare another angel- the scales would have been tipped in our favour too much and then _they_ would have been allowed to send something much bigger and nastier to even things up again. It's all about Balance. Turns out I was never supposed to die in that final battle after all, and the Powers have been waiting to exploit that little loophole for a while now. So here I am."

"Wait. You were never meant to die?" Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously. She looked up to the sky and shook her fist. "What you think you can just mess around with people's lives like that? Once again we win the prize for being the PTB's bitches."

With her words becoming more and more heated as she began to rant, Buffy failed to notice the dark clouds that were racing to obscure the stars that dotted the night sky.

"Gee, thanks for the great job you're doing." Her voice practically dripped with sarcasm. "Guess what Buffy, we're the Powers and not only are we so completely unable to save the world by ourselves that we have to use little girls to do it for us, we're gonna accidentally mess up our filing system so that one of our top warriors dies…oops, sorry, didn't get that memo, oh but don't worry we'll send him back to you a couple of decades down the line so that you can have a nice big reunion and you know what hey, we'll throw in an apocalypse too so that you feel right at home."

There was an ominous rumble of thunder above, but Buffy wasn't done.

"I mean sure you'll have to suffer from a broken heart for a while but you'll get over that and what the hell, as a consolation prize we'll make you immortal. Downside is you get to see everyone die around you, but on the plus size think of the people you can save and then kill when they get turned the next night when you couldn't get to them in time."

A bolt of lightening shot down into the ground an inch from where Buffy was standing, burning the grass next to her into a sooty pile. She sniffed and folded her arms, muttering under her breath.

"Fine I get the message. Your customer complaints department totally needs to lighten up. I mean lightening bolts? Isn't that just a tad too cliché?" She sighed as the clouds gave one more rumble and then retreated back into nothingness as quickly as they'd come, leaving the night sky as clear as before.

"Feel better?"

"No, not really."

Visibly reigning herself in she took several calming breathes. Trying to sound indifferent she asked a very important question. "So what happens when everything's over? Do you go back or…"

"No," he interrupted hurriedly. "I was kinda hoping that…well that is if… there's no-one else…"

"You want to stay with me?"

"Unless you're not…cookies was the term you used last time we spoke wasn't it? I mean if …if you don't want me to I'll go and find…"

"No, no, I'd like you to stay…that is if you want to...?"

"I'd love that."

He smiled then, a full smile and Buffy suddenly remembered how good looking he was when he looked at her like that. There was a beat of silence, a sudden change in atmosphere as Buffy felt the ache in her chest intensify.

"I missed you," she whispered, knowing his sensitive hearing would pick up the words.

"I missed you too," he murmured. Suddenly she was in his comforting embrace, his arms wrapped tight around her, her face buried in his chest as she began to sob. He stroked her hair soothingly as she cried over everything she'd lost.

"I was so alone," she choked. "No-one understood…and then they all left me…and I can't face Dawnie…Angel…I was so alone…"

"Shhh," he breathed. "I'm here now beloved, I'm here."

* * *

Neither knew how much time had passed as they stood holding each other, taking comfort in each other's presence, and neither of them particularly cared.

Suddenly there was a small rustling sound like someone shifting from foot to foot and the vampire and his slayer looked up from their positions to see Roman watching them. A look passed over his face- something between pain and envy- but it was gone in an instant, a neutral mask slipping into place as he noticed that they were both looking at him.

He inclined his head back to the door that had materialised behind him once more.

"Our time is up. We need to go back to the party and complete the job that you were both sent back here for."

The couple broke apart but clasped their hands together, beginning to walk back over to the open door which led back into the small billiards room that Roman had spun her into at the beginning. Stepping through back into the warmth of the room Buffy turned and watched as the angel gently closed the door, but not before casting one more anguished look over the statue that formed the fountain.

With the door shut firmly it dissolved back into the wall and formed an innocent looking bookshelf, complete with several leather bound volumes and a rather pretty statuette of a woman with a dove in one hand and a sword in the other. Buffy was sure the figure blinked and smiled up at Roman, but when she looked again the statue remained perfectly still, its tiny features unmoving. Frowning, she continued to watch the porcelain figurine from the corner of her eye as, his job complete, Roman then strode over to the billiard table and waved his hand over the surface.

Immediately an array of weapons appeared, each weapon pristine in its condition and glinting dangerously in the flickering light of the room. Roman gestured towards the table.

"Help yourselves…but remember the more you carry the better you will have to conceal it from the other guests. Tonight is traditionally an amnesty between both sides so no weapons are permitted in the building. You won't have felt the wards guarding the entrance as you passed through Buffy, but all of the entrances are designed to disable any guest who has brought a weapon with them and allow the guards to remove the offending object and person. If either of you is caught carrying anything at all then not only is it highly illegal but will be perceived as either a direct challenge to _them_ or as an assassination attempt towards one of the guests. Both conclusions will result in your rather messy and unfortunately drawn out deaths."

Buffy and Angel glanced at each other and neither could suppress the slight shudder at Roman's dark words nor the expression on his face; the darkness in the Angel of War that relished the thought of bloodshed and violence.

Angel frowned and pointed at the assembled armoury. "How did you get these past then if the wards are so well done?"

Roman cocked his head to one side in an action that clearly showed he wasn't human. He considered the vampire thoughtfully and then spoke, his words clearly carefully chosen.

"The room we are standing in does not exist. Nor did the garden you were in a moment ago. None of this in fact exists at all." At their confused expressions he held up a finger as Buffy opened her mouth to interrupt.

"Let me explain as best I can, but you must understand that my explanation will not make complete sense as your mortal minds are ill equipped to deal with the theories of existence, substance and instantiation principles."

"Instanty-what-now?"

Roman held up his finger. "The instantiation principle is a concept that states that if something has a property, then necessarily that something must exist. For it not to exist would be a property without an essence, which is impossible. For example," he waved his fingers and an apple appeared in his fingers, "an apple is red. Here, the apple is the essence and the property is red. The instantiation principle implies that it is meaningless to say that "the apple is red, but the apple doesn't exist." The apple _must_ exist for it to be red."

Slow comprehension was dawning on Angel's face but Buffy's was as confused as ever.

"Huh?"

Roman rolled his eyes. "Miss Summers have you ever heard of the phrase 'Cogito ergo sum'?" Buffy folded her arms defensively.

"No," she snapped. "And your fancy apple tricks are making me grouchy. Get on with the explainy 'cos I'm still not getting what's going on."

" 'Cogito ergo sum' means I think, therefore I am." Roman flicked his hand and the apple disappeared. "This room did not exist until we appeared in it when I did my, as you so eloquently put it 'fake-waiter-man-twirly-thing.' You expected us to appear somewhere and so we did. For us to have landed in nothing would have been too difficult a concept for your mind to grasp. It is you who have created this room we are standing in. It was you who decided where you would reunite with Angel. Your imagination that created these weapons. You thought, therefore they are."

He formed the apple once more and had it vanish as quickly as it came. "I can say the apple is red without it physically existing. It is simply a conception in my mind. But in order for it to be red the apple must therefore exist, regardless of whether it is actually here or not."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "So if I think of say, a strawberry daiquiri, it will appear?"

Roman shook his head. "No, the principle works only on a subconscious level. Your expectations are already in place. You cannot deliberately change them using your conscious mind."

"But you created that apple."

"Only because you expected me to give you an example. And also because I am on a higher spiritual plane than you."

"Wow, that totally didn't sound like you have a stick up your…"

"Buffy," interrupted Angel, before she could say something insulting. "So you're saying because we expected weapons, we got them."

"And it was night time in the garden," realised Buffy, "because I expected Angel to be able to walk without burning."

"Precisely," said Roman, allowing the corner of his mouth to lift slightly. "The weapons exist now within the building, and, having never traveled though the wards they are undetectable except through physical discovery."

"Cool," said Buffy, fingering the throwing stars and the silver hilt of a particularly wicked looking dagger before pocketing it into her handbag, next to Mr. Pointy.

She glanced down at herself and fingered the satin of her evening dress before glancing back at the short swords. "This may be a problem."

"I'll take two," said Angel, reaching for both of the swords. "I can conceal them in my jacket easily enough."

"Hmm," mumbled Buffy glancing round the room. Spotting a dark paneled cabinet she strode over to it. "If I know myself then I would have…" She flung open the cabinet doors and let out a shout of triumph. "Yep, I would have expected that I would have needed to conceal my weapons somehow." Reaching into the cupboard she pulled out several knife sheaths and dagger holsters, as well as clips for the stars and bottles of holy water, about the size of a ring finger.

Angel grinned at her. "I'm starting to really like your subconscious."

Buffy smirked back. "Me too."

* * *

With as many weapons strapped onto themselves as they could carry Roman outlined his brief plan of attack.

"I will continue to pose as a waiter and scope out the rest of the guests and the room. You two must try and see if you can locate where Carenza is being held and then come and inform me. We will then go and rescue her together."

"You make it sound so easy."

The angel ignored the sarcastic comment. "There will be a dinner in an hour's time so you have precious little time to find her before you are required back at the banqueting hall. There I will be able to speak to you and find out what is happening."

"I don't spose you can think Carenza into existence can you?" Asked Buffy, in the vain hope that this would be possible.

"My subconscious…"

"Wasn't expecting her to be here, right, I get it." The slayer sighed and mumbled under her breath. "Would have made things a whole bunch easier though."

"Yes, well, anyway. There is one final thing you will need in your search."

"Is it blueprints?" Buffy perked up. "Cos we could totally use those right now instead of having to figure out what and where every room is in the building."

Roman looked back over to the wooden bookcase and Buffy followed his gaze over the books and the statu…the statuette that was no longer there but walking along the floor silently towards them.

Buffy stifled the urge to scream. "What the…"

Roman reached down a hand and the figurine leapt lightly on to it as he gently lifted her and put her onto the billiard table top.

"This is Cynthia. She'll be your guide around the building. The sword should point you in the right direction and the dove will glow to warn you of oncoming dangers."

"What?" Said Buffy getting over her shock and using her anger to cover up her fear of the tiny woman that was giving her the wiggins. "We get a creepy statuette instead of something useful like a map or building layouts?"

Roman shrugged. "Don't blame me. It wasn't my subconscious."

She whirled round and glared at Angel who was staring at the figurine and smirking. His smile wilted under Buffy's stare.

"What? I couldn't help it. You were the one who expected to think it was creepy." He smiled once more at the figurine who dipped a curtsy to him. "I quite like her."

Buffy just looked at him. "_This_ is what your subconscious expected to help us? Not a map, no, it just had to be a frickin _freaky doll statue_. And no way am I calling it Cynthia. You've got to be kidding."

The figurine's head revolved, the porcelain grating as it twisted impossibly and leered at Buffy, its blank eyes staring at her. The slayer refused to back down from the staring contest but eventually realised she had to blink. After all, the statue had no eyelids. The doll smiled nastily and bringing the sword up pointed at Buffy before miming cutting its throat.

"Did you see that?" Said Buffy urgently, pointing at the doll who smiled innocently.

"Hmm?" Said Angel who had been readjusting a couple of stakes which were in the inner breast pocket of his jacket. "Buffy, she's just a statue. And she's on our side. I think you've just got off on the wrong foot. Right Cyn?"

"Cyn?" Ground out Buffy.

Angel shrugged and shot the doll a smile who gave him a thumbs up. "I'm sure if you just apologised to her you'd get along fine."

"Apologize for what exactly?"

"Well you did call her creepy and freaky," said Roman, who looked thoroughly bored by the whole thing.

The porcelain woman nodded vigorously and put on a hurt expression. A tiny trickle of glazing slid down her face.

"Wait… are those tears?" Said Buffy incredulously. "You manipulative little…"

Angel frowned. "Buffy, just apologize so we can go save the world. Please," he added when she glared at him.

"Sorry," the slayer ground out between gritted teeth. Cyn nodded graciously and smiled at her.

"Good," said Roman. "Perhaps we are ready to finally leave now?"

"Whatever," Buffy replied. The moment the vampire and the angel had their backs turned the innocent smile on Cyn's face disappeared and the figure pointed at Buffy and made jerky stabbing motions, smirking viciously.

Poking out her tongue Buffy walked past casually and knocked the figure off hard onto the floor. Unfortunately the doll twisted in mid air and managed to land on its feet on the carpet. Without a scratch or chip on it.

"Damn," muttered the slayer under her breath.

* * *

Roman took both of their hands in his as he prepared to spin them back into reality.

"Remember," he urged. "Dinner is in an hour. We have till midnight to find Carenza. Try to make yourselves inconspicuous. Avoid anyone who might know you. Make as little small talk as possible. And don't let anyone discover your weapons." His grip tightened. "Good luck."

And then the world was spinning in a haze of colour as they went through the door and back into the ballroom. Shaking off the faint dizziness both Angel and Buffy immediately took in the brightly lit room with its multitude of guests. Roman picked up the tray of drinks that he had set down before, then offered the tray to them.

"Wine sir?"

"Thank you," said Angel, picking up the wine glass in one hand and the invitation that was underneath it with the other. The angel (now firmly back into his waiter disguise) nodded and then walked over to another group of guests.

Angel glanced down at the card in his hand and fingered the gold edging. "Hope they've got me a place in the seating arrangements."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "They're the PTB. May not be able to save the world but I'm sure they can get you a place at dinner."

Angel grinned at her and offered his arm, allowing Buffy to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow, as they began to casually move towards the end of the room and several open doors.

"Any idea where Cyn went?" He asked. Buffy smiled and nodded at several people before glancing at the large clock on the wall.

"No idea," she replied with only a hint of irritation. "Have you noticed that according to that clock we haven't been gone at all?"

"What?" Said the vampire. "But that's imposs...oh."

Buffy grinned. "You know I wasn't expecting any time to have passed whilst we were in there." She laughed. "Oh, the cleverness of me."

Angel raised an eyebrow at the phrase. "You've read J.M. Barrie?"

"What?" Said Buffy defensively. "A girl's not allowed to read these days?"

"You hate books."

The slayer pouted. "I'll have you know I love reading…" she wilted under Angel's gaze, "…_Vogue_ okay, okay. So I watched the film instead. But Peter was played by this really cute guy, with this gorgeous blonde hair and amazing eyes and I'm so shutting up now." She coughed and hurried onto a different topic. "Anyway mister, lets speed up slightly. Remember we're trying to avoid anyone talking to anyone who may or may not know us."

Suddenly a heavily accented french voice called to them across the room.

"Angelus! What a lovely surprise."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Great. Someone who knows your psychotic alter ego." She smirked. "50 bucks says they're evil."

* * *

**Author's note:** Cogito, ergo sum (Latin: "I think, therefore I am") is a philosophical statement used by Rene Descartes, which became a foundational element of Western philosophy.

**Please read and review!** A review a day keeps the fanfic blues away. And doesn't rot your teeth either!

They're almost as good as chocolate…

…Maybe chocolate covered reviews…

…Mmmmmmmh …


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